One Rung Down

Poem by Jeff Burt

Climbing to trim the plum,
I step on the highest rung
of the quivering ladder,
then withdraw, danger expressed
in the raised letters of warning--
Not A Step.
But to place one foot
and then another,
to climb to the level
your shins have lost
a bar to brace against,
to face without fear--
this must be the power that preachers
and prophets feel,
that electric rush of instability
atop pyramid or mountain,
that choice between balance
below and zealous ascension.
And so I reach.
 
I curl my fingers around
a greening branch and test
that highest rung
without placing weight,
and with my hand planted surely
around the tether of the plum,
sense that I am safe,
though I do confess to headiness,
like sitting on a three-legged stool
after a couple of drinks
when the floor swells
and breaks beneath.
 
Do I dare try the highest step?
The honest truth is that I tried,
I tried still connected to earth
through that darting plum branch
and felt released, and when I let go
and stood for one moment, not more,
untethered, hands out and imploring
air for balance, I was not free,
I was blinded by the fear of falling,
I was blinded by the fear of flying.
 
I have learned my rung of comfort
and I have learned my sense of truth,
the difference in what I can hear
and the difference in what I will speak.
I know now how far I can climb.
I could tell you what I saw that moment
I stood on the final rung untied to earth,
I could tell you grand visions
and I could tell you gripping stories
and I could tell you of tragedy
and pathos and anger and of love
overwhelming, bitterness removed,
that I joined blackbirds swarming
in joyous routes unready to land,
but the truth, the honest truth is
I saw nothing, remember only
the comfort of my left foot touching
the second rung down
and my right foot right behind it. 

Jeff Burt lives in Santa Cruz County, California, and has worked in electronics and mental health administration. He has worked in Consequence Magazine, Williwaw Journal, Rabid Oak, and contributed to many others.

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1 thought on “One Rung Down”

  1. What an amazing visual poem. I felt the heady anticipation, and then the fear. I can definitely identify with this poem. I feel this poem could also be referencing a lot of other aspects of life. Well done.

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